Mesquite Canyon Trail Run Race Report

I think I have gotten into trail running because I got tired of grinding endless miles on the pavement for ironman training last year. The scenery is way better than road running. It's also way tougher and harder on your body.

I found that out when I tripped over a tree root, checking out the trail for the Mesquite Canyon Trail run. The run wasn't as bad as the elevation map shows:

However, I found out that (a) you can run as fast and as hard as you can and you will never be as fast as you would on pavement; and (b) you have to work harder for less speed. Not only that, you have to pay attention to where you are putting your feet so that you don't end up sprawled on the ground with a bloody knee or worse.

The first time I checked out this trail, I was blithely unaware of the danger those little rocks on the trail could inflict. I ran a seemingly easy 2 1/2 miles and turned around and tripped on a little pebble in the trail. I got up with a bloody knee. I recovered and ran down a wash that had a lot of soft dirt that had washed down from a rain storm. Sitting in the dirt, waiting to snarl me was an evil root. I caught my foot in it and slammed down hard on my chest. I had the breath knocked out of me and felt rather battered at this point. I finished the run. It turned out that I had bruised my ribs, which meant that everything I did that involved moving including running, coughing, lifting and generally existing really hurt. The pain didn't really abate until the morning of the race.

I decided to run the race hard, but to be relatively cautious, because I really didn't want to fall. Racing this trail seemed a lot harder than training on it. It seemed the faster you go, the harder it was to avoid the rocks. I got a fairly good pace going, but a lot of people were passing me. I got up to my racing heart rate, which usually makes the right side of my chest hurt. My ribs hurt on the left side, so I had bilateral pain. Fun. I stumbled a few times, but I stayed upright. I had to shorten my gait and pick up my knees. It felt like I was dancing on the rocks.

The turn around passed an aid station. Volunteers checked out your number when to came through to keep track of the bodies. I guess they didn't want to leave anybody out in the desert. The trail goes steeply up for a short while, then you come back down.

Coming back, I spotted the evil tree root that I had tripped over the week before. It looked like they had put some dirt over it. By this time my legs were really getting tired and heavy. The last mile and half, there seemed to be only one person in front of me. There weren't any mile markers, so I couldn't tell how much I sucked time-wise, but I was doing the best I could. I stumbled some more, but I stayed upright.

I hit the finish line in 51:56 for the five miles. I wasn't thrilled about the time, but I was about mid-pack and 3/5 in my age group. Trail running isn't about setting personal records anyway. It's about you against yourself and the terrain. It almost seems more like pure running. Instead of spacing out and running as fast as you can, you test yourself as you struggle against the rocks and the dirt and the hills. And when you are getting weak, you can look at the scenery to distract yourself and know that it will hopefully always be there.

Desert Classic Duathlon Race Report

The Sonoran desert is green. There is a reason for that. It occasionally gets rain. Sometimes it gets a LOT of rain.

The Desert Classic Duathlon is a competitive, fairly difficult race. It attracts some really talented pros. The difficulty of the race is increased when you are cold and wet and the trails have turned to mush from the rain.

I incorrectly assumed that the rain would stop and that I would warm up on the runs. I was sadly mistaken. The first run is on a relatively easy trail that goes uphill, then downhill. Last year I managed about nine minutes miles for the 3.5 mile trail. I was in the third wave of runners.

I had a hard time getting up to speed. The first two miles were about 10 minute miles if the sign was correct. The trail had loose wet gravel, but wasn't too muddy. I tried to speed up. The wave of male runners behind me starting passing me. I stayed to the right, but I had to avoid the Cholla cactus, which has nasty needles with hooks that cling to your flesh if you try to pull them out. I managed to pull out an average of 9:31 miles for a total time of 33:18.

I fumbled through transition. Since it was raining, I had put my shoes in a plastic bag, which slowed me down. I was warm from the run, so I assumed I would be warm enough on the bike. This turned out to be a mistake.

Coming out of transition, there is a climb on the bike, before you go downhill. The bike is an out and back for a total of 21 miles. Last year, my legs really hurt starting out on the bike. This year they didn't hurt. Maybe because they were numb from the cold. I didn't feel too bad at this point. After you hit the park entrance, there are rolling hills to the turn around. My speed was about the same as last year, judging from the mile markers. My bike computer wasn't working because of the rain. I hit the turn-around in about 42 minutes. It was raining, but it was a light rain. As I hit some of the downhills, I kept telling myself that I wasn't cold. I really was.

About five miles from the end of the bike route, the rain started coming down. HARD. It was blowing in my face and it hurt. I was totally miserable at this point and I just wanted to be done with the bike. I wanted to get to the second run and warm up. I saw a fair amount of people on the side of the road with flats or who had just given up. I thought about quitting, but standing in the rain freezing waiting for sag to pick me up wasn't an attractive option. About three miles in I noticed that I wasn't focusing very well. I had to remind myself to pay attention and not run off the road. My mind was getting foggy from the cold. At this point, I couldn't feel my feet. I finally got into transition in a time of 1:25:26. This time kind of sucked, but it was only about a minute more than last year when it was sunny and dry.

I fumbled around again. I had a hard time getting my helmet off, because my finger wouldn't do what my brain was telling them to do. My old friend hypothermia had come to visit. I got my wet running shoes on and finally got my chin strap undone. Another slow transition.

I started out the second run with numb feet. It was hard to know what they were doing. It seemed like I was turning over my legs, but it was hard to tell. At about mile two the quagmire started. The trail was three inch deep tracked up mud. Some people had bravely ran right down the middle. I chose to try and avoid the deepest mud, but it was impossible at times. I passed people struggling through it and finally hit the HILL. The HILL is a short steep hill about two miles from the start of the second run. Last year I managed to make it up the entire hill without walking, but last year was last year. I went up the hill in something resembling a run, but I had to walk a little when my legs decided they didn't want to run anymore. I made it to the top and then had to navigate a narrow muddy trail going steeply downhill. From there it was a fairly "easy" short run to the finish. Total time for the 2.7 mile run a disappointing 27:56. I don't know if anyone was lucky enough to run the trail before it turned into a quagmire, but if they did, they had a distinct advantage. Mud does not make for a fast run, at least for me.

Total time for the race was 2:32:20. I actually got first place in my age division because only one other person my age showed up. The faster people elected to stay home and be warm and dry. Wussies!

This race is kind of cool because USUALLY the weather is great, it's challenging, well run and people show up from all over the country and even Canada. It was a qualifier for the World Duathlon Championships in 2009. I will be back next year, hopefully, and maybe even not freeze my body parts off.

Lost Dutchman 10k Race Report

This race is apparently too popular for it's own good. It's a lower cost alternative to some of the more expensive and over-hyped other marathons and half-marathons. I chose the 10k option, having no urge to race any longer. I tend to like low key events myself. It's much less hassle to park where you want, have plenty of time to get ready, and get your race number the same day you race. I started out two hours ahead of the time I was supposed to start racing and I got caught in a long line of cars trying to park. I had hoped I could get a parking spot near the starting line, but I was about half an hour too late. I had barely enough time to stand in line for the porta-potties and to get warmed up. As it was I didn't get much time to warm up. I like to warm up because if I am going to run as fast as I can, I like to ease into it a little.

At least you don't have any "corrals" to line up in. The polite thing to do in a race is to seed yourself according to your speed. You don't want to get run over by the faster runners, nor do you want to be stuck behind the slower ones. Here, it didn't matter because you had no idea what speed people would run.

The first mile was slightly downhill with a tail wind. I did it in 8:30", the fastest mile I would run. It got harder from then out. Most of the run was straight, but the terrain was rolling. I didn't have the crushing pain in my chest(not a heart attack, just lack of oxygen) I get when I run a 5k, but it was pretty uncomfortable. The rest of the miles were about 9:00/mile and I was counting down each one. My heart rate was climbing into the 170's, a place I usually don't like to be, but I ignored the high heart rate because it was tolerable. Usually the fourth mile is the black hole of a 10k, but none of them felt better or worse than the others except the last one. The last one you had to climb a hill. Not a big hill, but a painful one. You pass through a "wall" in honor of the marathoners I guess. It's actually is an archway made of blocks. Once you crest the hill, you turned into a strong headwind. It was annoying.

My final time was 56:09. It wasn't a personal best, but it was decent. Considering that I had been sick most of the week, had gained weight since the Ironman and had generally felt like my fitness had gone downhill, I was happy with it. I can still run very hard and generate some speed. I will probably pay for it later.

I was third in my age group, so I got two metals-one for finishing and one for being third in my age group. It's one of thoses things that you get in a race that you really don't need. More metals, more hats and more over-sized tee shirts that you never wear.

The race food was decent. The usual fruit, doritos and a burrito. I wish they had had pretzels. And cookies. While I was eating, there was a burro in a pen that kept complaining. He probably smelled the food and thought he should get some. He went with the man with a beard dressed as a miner-the "Lost Dutchman" who supposedly found gold that disappeared. The "Lost Dutchman" was supervising people playing darts. I thought this was odd, but kind of cute for a race. He looked more like an"Apache Junction" trailer park denizen than old miner to me. He reminded me of the "Mountain Man" dude who shows up riding a horse for the Mountain Man triathlon. I guess a race has to have it's mascot.

After waiting around for another metal that I didn't need, I drove the 40 miles home to take a nap. No yard work will get done today. All that hard running tires me out.

What I'm Missing

When you have been married for 30 plus years, you get used to having a man around. You get used to having someone to talk to, someone to share the chores, someone to hug, someone warm to spoon against in bed. When you get dumped you lose all of that. Even when the relationship has gone bad, you still miss the dream of having it. You adjust to being alone, but you have lost what used to be your best friend and you long for someone to light up when you appear. I miss the "maleness".



That doesn't mean that I am going to rush out and get involved in a relationship right away. I am not dating and I don't want to date right now. I think I have trust issues and if someone ever wanted to date me, (a)I would question their motives; and (b) think that they have lost their mind because my self-esteem is such that I wouldn't feel like I would be relationship material.

The reality is that having a relationship with a guy is difficult. They may have emotional needs that are sometimes unmet no matter what you do, they sometimes have difficulty expressing their feelings and they hurt you even if they love you. They also may not pick up after themselves, fall down on personal hygiene habits and be overly in love with sports that you have no interest in.

The weird consequence to having no relationship in my life after 30 plus years of marriage that I find myself checking out good looking athletic guys in spandex. Especially good-looking guys that you can see that well--that they are guys. The photo of the cyclists in red shorts was probably photo-shopped for humor, but it is funny as hell. The top photo probably is not "re-touched", but I think it is funny anyway. Those ITU uniforms are tight and sometimes the body parts have no where to go.

I think it's funny because human body is humorous as well as elegant. Muscled legs and arms are beautiful, but there is also the soft, floppy stuff. If you wear skin-tight clothes with no underwear, something is bound to show. And no one who rides a bike wants to wear underwear with their shorts and get chaffed.


Of course not everyone in spandex looks good wearing it. Most of the non-athletic world probably wishes it didn't exist. Spandex is not kind to body imperfections. There is a huge "ICK" factor, especially when you see what you really don't want to see. But like a car accident, it is hard to look away. You don't want to look, but the horrible fascination draws you do so anyway.

So while I am still in my lonely state of mind, I will probably take a gander at the better male bodies in spandex, but not look too hard (unless it's a photo).

McDowell Mountain Trail Run Race Report

Trail running is to road running like mountain biking is to road riding. Riding or running on the road can be hard, but riding or running on a trail is harder and slower. And sometimes much more fun. Instead of running in a straight line on an even surface, you have to dance around the rocks, the ruts and sometimes the puddles and constantly climb and descend hills.

The weather was the usual January early morning cold. It was about 44 degrees. It had rained the night before, so some of the ground was muddy. The organizers had thoughtfully provided heaters, of which people stood around and huddled near. There wasn't a huge crowd, so it was pretty low-key. There was also a 10 mile and 25k race option. You got your race number and hung around the heater or stayed in your car. I warmed up by jogging for 20 minutes with a few intervals thrown in in the hopes of being ready for strenuous running. I had run this trail at a moderate pace the week before and it had been an intense workout.

This trail ascends for a little bit. I dodged my first mud puddle and thought my lungs were collapsing. Kids were passing me, but I knew I would pass by them near the end. Kids have a lot of speed, but not much endurance. The trail gradually ascends the first half, but it's an up and down ascent. Then you hit a steep hill to descend. The first time I tried to do this on a mountain bike, I freaked and walked my bike. Now it's a matter of getting down a wet, muddy hill without breaking your neck. It required a lot of side stepping. Then you have to ascend again. At least my lungs were getting used to not having enough air at this point.

There were no mile markers, so I didn't know how fast I was going. I don't have a fancy GPS watch to tell me how fast I am going and I think the terrain would have confused the watch anyway. I knew there was an aid station at mile 1.7. More ups and downs through the watches. There was very little flat trail. I hit the aid station at over 17 minutes. Crap! Over 10 minute miles. Not exactly stellar for a 5k, but this terrain was a bitch. I hadn't done a race of this intensity in quite a while.

At this point the terrain supposedly went downhill, but it was hard to tell. You still had to go up and down hills. It helped to have a quick cadence. Now I was finally passing the kids.

About a mile from the end was the area called the "Clay Pits". The race organizers had warned us that there was mud there. I tried to avoid the mud, but when I hit a large mud patch that I couldn't go around, I missed the dry ground. The clumps of mud made friends with my shoes. I guess they didn't call it "Clay Pit" for nothing. It was like running with weights on my feet.

Getting to the finish line required running up a hill. By this time I had nothing in my legs. Especially with all that mud on my shoes. Usually I have the energy at the finish line to at least pretend that I had been running fast. The people that I had managed to stay ahead of for the last quarter mile passed me and I couldn't respond with any speed.

My final time was 31:58, which wasn't as fast as I wanted to be. I was still 28/57 overall and 9/32 female. The winner ran the course in about 22 minutes, which was amazing considering that he didn't break his neck doing it. Trail running is more about the physical challenge and the scenery, rather than the time anyway. I can run much faster on pavement, but sometimes it's fun to "dance" on the dirt. I stayed upright and maybe the mud on my shoes will eventually come off with a blowtorch.

Where I Came From, Where I Live

Like many people born in the midwest, I have been attracted to places that are most unlike the midwest. I grew up in West Lafayette, Indiana, went to school in Bloomington, Indiana and resided in Illinois. The midwest has it charms if you look hard enough, I suppose, but I love mountains, scenic landscapes and sunny weather. Whenever I had the chance while living in the midwest, I would take long driving vacations with my now ex-husband. We would travel hundreds of miles to Colorado, Arizona, Utah, Wyoming and Montana to various national parks. The cornfields and flatlands would turn to the wheatfields of Kansas, then to the mountains of the Rockies. The midwest always seemed monotonously flat, green and closed in. The west looked wide-open with undulating land with a horizon that seemed to go on forever. I felt free and unfettered.

This attraction to the west and Arizona particularly started at an early age for me. My grandparents retired to Mesa, Arizona, like a lot of older folks and lived in a silver Airstream trailer. My uncle bought a lot in what was then the middle of nowhere around Scottsdale Road and Jomax Road and built his house himself brick by brick. My mother and visited him in 1968

in April when it was sunny and warm unlike the deary gray cold of spring of Indiana. We loved the unique plants and animals of Arizona in the desert-the quail, coyotes, roadrunner and javelinas that would come by his place. The turquoise in the ring that I got seemed like the sparkling blue skies of Arizona.

So when my then-husband and I got the chance to move to Arizona, we jumped on it. It meant dragging our three month baby across the country on a road trip and moving away from family, but it seemed worth it. At the time the local economy was booming, housing was cheap and the cost of living was a little less than in Illinois.

There were downsides. The summertime sucked. It was dreadfully hot and it didn't cool down at night in July and August. You get giant dust storms and violent storms in the summer. You have to drive everywhere because the city area is so spread out. More and more people moved here and the traffic got worse. Eventually the economy tanked and housing prices dropped drastically.

However, I developed an interest in astronomy and the skies are very clear if you drive 70 miles away from Phoenix. Being out in the desert at night looking at stars with the coyotes howling and occasional owls hooting is unbeatable. You can be outdoors most days or night of the year, though it may be uncomfortable in the summer. I can bike, swim or run outdoors almost any day. I have desert preserves to bike, hike and run in.

The winter to early spring days are superb. The days are warm without being too warm, it cools down at night and the sun doesn't burn your skin like it does the rest of the year. The humidity is low and it makes the sunlight seem crystal clear. Sometimes the smog clears and the mountains seem like they could be touched even though they are far away. Distant peaks sometimes have a covering of snow, a contrast to the blue grays of their rocky sides. When the sun is low, the mountains turn brilliant shades of purple and pink.

You get a weird assortment of creatures and plants. I have lizards and an occasional toad in my yard. Sometimes I nearly run over snakes on my bike. Quail run around my neighborhood and roost in my orange tree. Hawks are everywhere and hummingbirds come to my feeders. Sometimes I see coyotes and roadrunners. The cacti come in numerous and novel forms. The Saguaros seem like they have spirits with their giant size and their twisting arm shapes.

You learn to live with the searing summers. You always carry water, you seek shade wherever it is and if you exercise outdoors, you do it at ungodly early hours of the morning. You get so you can't tolerate cold and you don a sweater when it's under 80 degrees. You learn to be careful opening car doors and touching steering wheels when your car has been sitting in the sun. You only buy white cars because black cars get hotter in the sun. You sweat A LOT. If you exercise in the heat you learn how far you can push yourself before succumbing to heat exhaustion.

I guess you like whatever is different from where you grew up. Arizona seems very different from Indiana in some ways, the same in others. Indiana has cows and pigs. Arizona has dairy cows and cattle roaming on public lands, and pigs in the wild. Indiana has mostly conservative politicians, Arizona has mostly conservative politicians. People in Arizona like trucks(white of course) and guns. They also hate government and taxes. I don't remember hoosiers owning as many trucks, but then again maybe they don't have as many dirt roads to go down and animals to shoot. People in Indiana own horses, but I don't remember seeing them riding in the city streets.The big difference of course between Arizona and Indiana is that Indiana is flat and Arizona has mountains, desert and a big canyon.

I don't know if I will ever live anywhere else. Sometimes I miss bearable summers and having tall trees. But I am so dependent on sunshine that I go into a funk if I don't have it. I can't stand cold and I don't know how to drive on ice and snow anymore. The desert dirt has sunk its tentacles in me and I am stuck here.

2009: Hellos and Goodbyes

As I thankfully put the Christmas decorations away that I don't want to see for another year, and ignore another New Year's Eve by being alone, 2009 draws to a close and I say hellos and goodbyes to the things that have happened in the past year.

Goodbye to legally being married as of June 6th after 32+ years of marriage. Maybe this year I will actually adjust to being single again.

Goodbye to divorce legal proceedings. It was an enormous waste of time and money and I am glad I don't have to worry about it anymore.

Goodbye to my cat. After 19 years he had too many painful ailments and I had to put him to sleep. He was cranky as hell and made both of us miserable.

Goodbye to some of the things I have been accumulating for the last 32 years. It's time to start fresh. I have trashed wedding stuff, gotten rid of my ex's stuff and general garbage that I should have thrown out years ago that didn't seem to have any actual purpose for existing, but isn't thrown out because it might be "useful".

Goodbye to hypothermia. Getting medically treated for hypothermia twice this year due to swimming in cold water is twice too much. This year I am not swimming in any water with a temperature below 65 degrees.

Hello to being an ironman. Acheiving a goal I had been chasing for two years was worth all the emotional and physical pain and was enormously satisfying and empowering.

Hello to Facebook and the friends I made including ones from my high school class of 1972. Who would have thought I would connect with these people after all of this time. Sometimes it's the only social contact I have in a day.

Hello to blogging. I am hoping someone actually reads this stuff and I connect with them at some point.

Hello to painting. It was surprisingly therapeutic when I am emotionally down. I hope to do some more. Immersing myself in the complexity of painting makes the depression and anxiety go away.

Hello to a 5k and 10k personal record. Who would have thought that in my fifties I would be the fastest runner I have ever been. Of course I was never fast, but the fact that I can still improve is age defying. I can still go beyond my physical limits even if I am older. I don't have to be feeble yet.

Hello to competing in a World Championship. I qualified due to luck and not great racing. I felt like a poser racing in the World Championships, but it was a good experience and it made me feel like "hot stuff" to say that I had raced at that level. I may take the stroke of luck even further and race in the Nationals because racing in the World Championship has automatically qualified me for the Nationals even though my race time sucked.

Hello to 2010.

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2009 Years Totals: Swimming, Biking, Running

182 hours swimming, 311,950 yards or 177 miles

267 hours biking, 3783 miles

160 hours running.

Total 608 hours